Morocco was NOT MY FAULT
When I went to Morocco I travelled around on a yak called Mak, who due to my weight, died of a heart attack, but it WAS NOT MY FAULT. So then waited for a few days and ate it with a wooden spoon brrrrr, which is just as well as I only have one toof. Anyhow, on my travels I went to this amazing place, which was really quite good. I met up with some geezer named mongrel, who had a little white car, so we travelled together. He wanted to play cricket, but I didn’t, so mongrel played with himself and I woke up with a wet ear, as I had left the tent door open and it rained. Mongrel was not alive in the morning, it appeared that somebody had broken into the little white car over night, and dumped massive amounts of rubbish on Mongrel killing him. It was a shame to leave this rubbish in Morocco, and not be able to take it back to dump it in the grounds of local school or at the retirement home, where the old people that smell like cabbage can have a good whinge. What fond memories!
— Gene Snitsky, August 26, 2006

Sailor Dave
Morocco certainly isn't a haven for animal rights people. I was in Marrakech a few weeks ago, and had a wonderful experience there and in the Atlas Mountains staying with a Berber Family. With the exception of Tanger, Morocco is much safer than Norfolk, Virginia where I currently live. My album is at http://www.worldisround.com/articles/110637/index.html
— David Roland, January 4, 2005